Music To My Ears
by XxThe SirenxX
Summary: They say music is the way to ones soul... Sometimes, that is the case, other times, it requires more than a catchy tune... A series of Oneshots based on the first ten songs on my I-Pod involving various Fable 2-3 characters and several OC's. Will accept requests for a character if given a song to go with them.
1. Reaver - Jai Ho

The flames danced across her tanned skin like whispers of light, causing her to glow beneath their warm touch. The fluid movements that her limbs performed were almost hypnotising, and his emerald green eyes could not help but suck in every ounce of her magnificent performance. The exotic music that played hurriedly in the background seemed to fade away as he watched her, yet she managed to keep in perfect timing with it, not missing a single beat. Raven hair whipped around her head as she span on a thin yet strong leg, and her crimson lips were set in a focused smile. Yet, this girl clearly did not need to concentrate on her task – it seemed to come naturally to her. She was, in all honesty, a picture of utmost magnificence.

_What an exotic desert flower, _Reaver found himself thinking as he gazed at her, his head resting on one hand, a goblet of fine Samarkand wine preoccupying the other. He watched as she twirled with complete grace, not stumbling or losing balance. She twisted her hands as she danced, shaking her hips rhythmically, as though teasing the gathering crowd of men. The rest of the group gathered around the table, along with Reaver, were cheering and whistling at the girl as she danced, and Reaver didn't blame them. The only reason he was not participating in these flirtatious actions was because he was too lost in the beauty of her movements and grace. She did not appear to be losing any breath either, nor was she tiring, which Reaver found surprising.

_Must do it a lot, poor girl. I bet the owner of this place gets a lot of offers for her. _And he was probably right. The native Samarkand tavern in which he sat was owned by a dark skinned man with a dopey smile and fiery orange eyes. Upon Reaver requesting his best entertainment, the man had grinned slyly, and told him "he would not be disappointed with the local favourite choice". And, by Avo, had that man be right. Reaver, for once in his life, was content not to shoot anyone. He didn't want to miss a second of this extravagant girl's performance. He continued to watch her beautiful form as it moved amongst the smoke of the tavern. But often, Reaver would find his eyes drifting from the girl's dance moves to her bare skin. However, in all honesty, her outfit was not very modest. A silken brassiere and skirt that were both coloured crimson hung from her body, the skirt flowing about her to allow for easier movement, and her brassiere trying the best it could to give her what little modesty she could remain to have. Around her ankles and wrists were silk ribbons, decorated with small bells that had a clear ring when she moved. _A positively scandalous outfit,_ Reaver thought to himself, smiling. But as much as he liked that outfit, Reaver was beginning to think he would prefer her still without it…

"Don't even think about it, Reaver." A voice growled from next to the ex Pirate Lord, and he was snapped out of his wild and exotic fantasies. Looking to his left, Reaver saw Garth staring at him with annoyance and disgust. He had his arms crossed in a disapproving manner, and his expression was stone-faced. Reaver's lips twitched at the edges.

"Think about what?" He said in a mocking and innocent manner. Garth, however, was still staring him down. He didn't respond, so Reaver turned back to the girl, who was now doing some sort of summersault along the table with obvious ease. "Look at that," Reaver said, just loudly enough for Garth to hear. "Flexible too – I wonder if that's the only thing that's flexible-"

"I said don't even think about it." Garth butted in, cutting Reaver off. Smiling to himself, proud that he had annoyed the mage, Reaver spoke again.

"I'm simply admiring the local beauty, Garth my good man." A hint of mocking trailed his voice. "I don't see what your problem is with me doing so." He heard Garth let out a tired sigh, and saw him rub his temples from the corner of his eye. The Will-User muttered a curse under his breath, and Reaver turned back to him. "You know, I'm starting to feel like you didn't want me to come, Garth." He said in a voice full of fake hurt. "I do hope that's not the case. I don't take well to people not enjoying my company." He added, smirking. Garth looked up, and gritted his teeth. He was reaching the end of his rope with this man.

"And how _do_ you take to the matter if that is the case?" He asked, pouring himself another glass of wine. He was, after all, going to need to calm his stress levels somehow.

"Usually, the people who don't enjoy my company end up being shot." Reaver replied simply, as though discussing the murder of innocents was something he did on a day to day basis. And, Garth guessed, he probably did. But, looking up, and taking a swig of his wine, he replied to the cocky man,

"Talking about shots, I think you've just missed yours." Reaver looked up, and saw that the audience of men were gathering around the stage, and the girl, who was trying to find a safe way off the raised platform. The girl had finished her performance, and Reaver had missed the grand finale, whereas these poor excuses for men had gotten to watch every moment of it. They were all applauding her, giving her sweet comments and offering her their hand, or saying things such as "Let me buy you a drink," or "Let me escort you to your room, miss." It was clear, however, that the girl was reluctant to take any of their offers, as her face showed. She was biting her lip in a very cute way, and Reaver instantly decided he liked that action. And, looking at the men gathered around her, he saw that none of them were as clean, nor as pristine as he was.

"I don't believe that's the case, my friend." He said, before downing the last of his wine. Standing up strongly, he made his way through the throng of admirers, and pushed his way to the front of the group. The other men cursed him as he pushed, and some even threatened him, but he did not pay attention. He was focused on getting the girl off the stage and into his arms. So, stopping in front of her, he cleared is throat, and bowed. "Miss, I can see that you are obviously uncomfortable with all the offers these rascals must be making you," the girl turned to look at him, eyes narrow, "But I assure you that I am not part of the common rabble, so would you allow me to assist you down from the stage?" Reaver finished, and glanced up to look at the girl. And he stopped. When she had been dancing, she had kept her eyes closed, to help her concentrate – but now they were open, and Reaver was staring right into them. They were the most wonderful sapphire blue – as pure as the summer sky, and as bright as the full harvest moon. And at that moment, when Reaver was so lost in them, he didn't notice her start to smile.

"Why of course you may, sir." She held out her hand, and Reaver snapped back into reality. Taking her offer, he placed his other hand on her waist, and lifted her down gently and gracefully.

"There you go, my sweet." He murmured, and the girl giggled slightly.

"Thank you, sir." She replied, blushing as he led her through the crowd, hand still on her waist.

"Please my dear, call me Reaver, as is my name, after all." A sly smile crept onto his lips when she muttered his name under her breath.

"Reaver….I like that name; elegant and unique." She said, smiling. She was clearly well educated, Reaver noticed.

"And what, may I ask, is yours?" He said, pulling out a chair for her at the bar.

"Amythia," The girl said, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

"Amythia," Reaver repeated, feeling the taste of the name on his lips. "I like that name – beautiful, classy, elegant, and exotic; clearly you suit this name well." The seduction in Reaver's voice was clear, and despite her dark skin tone, a blush was still viewable on Esmeralda's cheeks. He couldn't help but smile, especially when she began to bite her lip again in that ever so cute way. "Here my girl, let me buy you a drink." The bartender poured out two glasses of the most expensive alcohol the tavern had to offer, and handed the two glasses to Esmeralda and Reaver. Before lifting the glass to her lips, Esmeralda spoke.

"Jai ho," She said, before taking a gulp. Reaver looked at her puzzled, and with a single eyebrow raised. Esmeralda laughed, and swallowed her drink, before speaking again. "It means good fortune, or, good luck." Reaver smiled, before clinking his glass against Esmeralda's.

"Jai ho," He repeated, taking a swig of the drink. Although, if the girls here were anything like the girls back at Albion, wishing himself good luck almost seemed like a waste of breath.

A/N: I don't own Reaver, Garth, nor any other original Fable characters. Neither do I own the Fable games themselves, or the plot line of said games. I only own the basic plots of these drables, and the self created characters used within them.


	2. Princess - Born This Way

Storm looked over at the other guests in the castle. The woman all had beautiful gowns on that were decorated with the most expensive jewels and colourful feathers. In modern day Albion, these kinds of clothes were called "fashion". To Storm, they were called, and always would be called, "just plain ugly". Now, understandably, people usually stereotyped Princesses as being dainty, girly creatures with petite forms and modest dress codes. And those rules usually did apply – but just not for Storm. Ever since she was a little girl, she had been different from the other noble blooded children, and had remained so in her later years. So, making her way through the castle in a pair of trousers and a ruffled blouse, you can imagine the looks she got from the ladies of the court. Some muttered amongst themselves, some turned away or pushed their noses up into the air. Some ignored her completely, used to the Princess' "uniqueness". As was most of the kingdom by now.

When she was little, Storm would sit at her dresser, facing the mirror with her mother seated behind her, brushing her hair whilst humming. More than once, Storm would ask her mother why she was so different from the other girls at the palace.

"I know they make fun of me behind my back, Mother. They think that I'm strange." She would mutter, filled with almost regret at being different. Her mother would stroke her back soothingly, and then tell her she indeed was different from other girls.

"But that is a good thing, Storm. When I was your age, I was different from most girls too. For one, they all had a house, and that was as different to me as you could get." Of course, her mother would refer to her own childhood more than often, using it to tell her daughter she understood what she was going through. "Being different is nothing to be ashamed of, Storm. In fact, I would rather you be completely opposite to the other girls your age at court than be the same. You know why?" At this point, the Princess would shake her head. And, smiling, her mother would reply with a voice that lifted her spirits, "If you weren't different, you wouldn't be my daughter."

The Princess exited the castle doors, and made her way out into the courtyard. She stopped to greet some passing gardeners, and to sniff some of the recently planted roses. After a little bit of stalling, she made her way through the many hedges and noblemen to where Walter was standing overlooking the city. He heard her approach, and turned around, smiling slightly.

"Twenty minutes late, scruffy as ever, and not a look of guilt or shame." He studied Storm, before breaking out into a chuckle. "You definitely are your mother's daughter!" He laughed, grinning. Storm smiled in reply, and shrugged.

"I was born this way, Walter."


	3. Elliot - Daydreamer

"Elliot!"

_Her long brown hair was drawn back into a complicated style that must have taken a fair bit of time to achieve, and her regal clothes flowed around her with grace and elegance. From his place down on the floor, the boy could have sworn he was seeing an angel – but as if the punch that boy had thrown was strong enough to make him do so!_

"Elliot!"

_As the girl leant down, she reached out a pale hand and left it hanging in midair, waiting for the boy to take a hold. But the boy – who had been taught how to properly respect a woman, and mind his manners by his mother – knew better than to do so. This girl was of the utmost importance, after all, and deserved better than to be touched by a commoner such as himself. Standing up on his own, the boy trailed a hand over his lower bleeding lip, and felt the sticky liquid smear over his chin. _

"Elliot!"

"_Oh my, are you alright?" The girl asked, her voice like that of angel's, just like her appearance – maybe he was dead after all. Reaching inside of her expensive coat, the girl drew out a silken handkerchief, stitched with the initials P.D. The girl held it out, offering it to her savoir. The boy shook his head, declining the girl's offer, but she insisted by holding the silk further towards him. He took it with reluctance, and gently wiped his lip, feeling the soft silk on his torn flesh. The girl smiled, showing off pearl white teeth. "I'm-"_

"Elliot!"

Elliot shot up, snapping his head from his hands. He felt a presence behind him on the stone castle steps, and looked around to see the princess. He smiled at her bashfully.

"I've been calling you for ages Elliot!" She said, hands on her hips. Elliot laughed at her stern expression – he loved it when she tried to be angry, but such an emotion was never in her nature. So he stood, and wrapped his arms around her waist, sighing.

"I apologise – I was daydreaming again." He said, nuzzling his head into her hair. He felt her wrap her arms around his back, and she sighed.

"What a king you will make – Elliot, The Daydreamer!" She said in a mocking tone. Elliot laughed, and could feel her smile too.

"That's me – but I'll always be daydreaming of you."


End file.
